


Coldsteel's Journey

by Two_Whales



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (Video Games), Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:06:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2757227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_Whales/pseuds/Two_Whales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Locked in a vicious stalemate, only one hedgeheg seems to have what it takes to end the conflict. Whether he will do so for good or evil, only time will tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yuki-chanX3](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Yuki-chanX3).



The klaxons sound, and the match begins. Across the ruined city turned battleground, two teams emerge from their staging areas in tight formation. Team Chaotix, with Vector on point, launch forward in a flying V. As they pass through the city’s urban center, the team pairs off.

With grace uncharacteristic of an alligator his size, Vector flips back his aerodynamic fairing, and scales a glass paned skyscraper, each step cracking the tempered glass. Charmy the bee follows, drafting the slipstream. Atop the skyscraper, Vector scours the city for the opposing team. He finds them.

 ***

Far away, Coldsteel the hedgeheg rips across a highway, tearing up concrete in his wake. He pulls with him Cream, Shrek, and Big the Cat, struggling to keep up.

“How about you mega-ass faggots go scout out some… shit,” Coldsteel says, in a badass voice. Shoe sole burning against the pavement, he accelerates, leaving his compatriots far behind. He encounters the remainder of a house, tucks his head and breaks through the flimsy sheetrock and wood spars. It’s not long until he feels speed shakes – the buffeting and instability that occurs near supersonic speeds. A less skilled hedgeheg would find oneself mangled on the ground. Coldsteel pushes past it, into a perfect calm. He can’t resist taking a peek behind him at the expanding mach diamonds, which shatter the windows of a high rise.

***

“What the HECK!” Vector shouts, as the building beneath him disintegrates, revealing its steel skeleton.

“Anyone see that?” Vector says into his radio.

“Yeah boss, are you okay?” Espio says.

“Building’s sound. What was that?”

“That goddam bastard Coldsteel, so much for teamwork, eh?”

Vector descends the building. “Charmy, go rough up the rest of the team, Espio and I will handle this.”

“Aye-aye,” Charmy says, heading towards the opposing team. Less than a mile away, Charmy spots them traveling by highway, uncovered. He unslings his rifle and fires a few rounds of simmunition at their feet. Cream, stuttering to a halt, nearly wipes out the rest of the team with her.

“Hey guys!” Charmy shouts.

Wide eyed, Cream and Big fumble for their rifles. Shrek turns and tries running. Charmy tags Shrek on the back a couple of times, and he falls to the ground. Simmunition is far from fatal, but Shrek will be waking up with a few bruised ribs the next morning. Charmy lands on Shrek’s back.

“Alright guys, you’re clearly outmatched. Toss your weapons, and we can walk away okay.”

Charmy sees Big’s thoughts on his face, clear as day. He dives behind Shrek as a barrage of bullets slam into him. Shrek moans weakly.

“I thought we could do this the easy way,” Charmy shouts, and takes to the air.

 ***

“Do the plan!” Vector says to Espio. Even with his fairing, Vector moved at a fraction of the speed of Espio, and compared to Coldsteel, he may as well be standing still. Amidst the narrow city streets however, his disadvantage was minimized.

“Yeah,” mutters Espio, deep in concentration.

Vector stashes his fairing in a dumpster and stands in an alleyway.

“Okay, he’s slow now – he’s in front of you, no, behind,” Espio says, his keen eyes tracking Coldsteel’s movements. Vector is buffeted on all sides by the slipstream.

“Yo, Espio,” Vector says, “Just tell me where I should be, not him!”

“Step right and lean to the left!”

Vector turns a kevlar clad shoulder towards the hog.

 ***

Meanwhile, Charmy weaves and bobs, dodging the low velocity rounds. A lucky shot clips his wing, and he tumbles out of the sky.

“Heh, Charmy, how about that?” Big shouts, “Two against one will always win.”

Charmy retracts his wings, and falls into a dive. He looses his rifle into Big, who buckles over and drops his own. Cream tosses her weapon and raises her arms in surrender.

 ***

Coldsteel follows Vector into a neighborhood. Via radio, he hears his team get wiped out. He cackles to himself, and continues closing in on Vector, rounding corners to bleed off speed. He readies his rifle, holding it away from him as not to get hit by the slower bullet. Charging towards Vector, he looks into his dumb, unrecognizing eyes. He’s got around 50 milliseconds before Vector sees him, more than enough time to do his job. However, Vector twists and turns, precognitively, and Coldsteel is unable to change direction as he slams into Vector, biting his tongue hard.

 _Damn!_ Coldsteel thinks. He sees a pair of eyes open, sliding out of disgusting, foreskinlike lids, and knows he has been caught. Vector’s arms begin to close around him, and Coldsteel decides it is finally time to pull out his ace in the hole.

Tapping into the power of the Chaos Emeralds, he dilates his perception of time to a factor of 64x. Vector appears to freeze still, although Coldsteel’s inertia presses him against him. Mustering incredible strength, he wrenches himself downwards, elbowing Vector in the crotch along the way.

Behind him, Espio leaps forward. At his speed, Coldsteel can see individual scales fold back and regain visibility, as well as Espio’s eyes tracking him.

“You should be proud,” Coldsteel says to Espio, who slowly falls through the air, helpless to react. “You two are the first people to ever draw my blood.”

He shoves Espio’s head towards the ground and watches his reaction unfold. Snapping back to 1x time, Coldsteel stands before Espio, who lies shuddering on the ground. Coldsteel spits out a mouthful of blood.

“Pssshhh, nothing personnel, kid,” He says ruefully.

 ***

Hovering over the cloud cover, Miles “Tails” Prower radios in a medic and retrieval squad. He switches over to an encrypted band to talk to an old friend.

“Tails, how did they do?”

“Team Chaotix is excellent, as usual. Team Blast is lagging behind… as usual.”

“And Coldsteel?”

“He’s a monster, Sir. Plain and simple.”

“He’s a monster we need on our side. And don’t call me sir. I don’t know what I did to deserve that.” A hoarse chuckle. “Reminds me of myself in my formative years.”

“No he doesn’t, Sonic. You were never like that.”

“Ah, but his speed! If only I could go fast like that once more,” Sonic breaks into a coughing fit, barking static through the radio. Sonic had not run since that fateful day, his crippling at the hands of Shadow the hedgehog.


	2. Chapter 2

In the gym of the Sonic fighting academy, the pupils covet what little unscheduled time they have. The gym contains a curious mix of boxing gear and aerobic equipment. Charmy runs suicides across the basketball court, and Big pounds the speed bag ferociously. Vector walks in, soaking wet and smelling faintly of garbage.

“Pee-yew, what’s that smell?” Charmy says, giggling.

“Shut up,” says Vector, “I had to clean my fairing.” He starts jumping rope morosely.

Coldsteel struts into the room, practically skipping. He feints and strikes at a punching bag, nearly knocking it parallel to the ceiling.

“Hey Big. We won!” Coldsteel says.

“No, _you_ won,” Big says. He switches to the focus bag, suspended from both floor and ceiling with elastic.

“Heh, not my fault if you’re too slow,” Coldsteel says, “Aren’t you happy to be on the winning team?”

“Yeah. Real happy.” Big crosses his arms over his chest, emphasizing the deep welts left by the simmuniton. In a fit of rage, he throws himself at the focus bag, which bounces back and hits him in the face.

“Hey, Coldsteel,” Vector says, “You hear about Espio?”

“I know he got beat,” Coldsteel says.

“Yeah, you beat him. Ripped the skin clean from his back. You know what debridement is?”

Coldsteel starts.

“Every afternoon, they peel the scabs off of him, just so they can grow back the next day.”

Vector and Charmy approach Coldsteel, caging him into the corner of the gym. Big has evacuated, leaving Coldsteel alone. The gym feels very empty without the sound of exercise.

“We were with him for the first few sessions, thought it would be good for him. Turns out it wasn’t so good for us, if you know what I’m saying.”

Charmy shudders at the memory, while Vector puffs himself up larger.

“Doctors don’t know if he’ll ever get to fully cloak again,” Vector says, “Us two think it’s time for you to pay your respects.”

Coldsteel raises his eyebrows and grins, enough to incite Vector to swing at him. He effortlessly sidesteps, and Vector stumbles.

“I could have killed Espio, you know,” Coldsteel says, “Ask him, he knows.”

Vector lunges at Coldsteel with renewed vigor, as Charmy tries fruitlessly to hold him back. Coldsteel avoids each punch with ease, and graciously chooses not to escalate.

“If you want to beat me, you’ll need to get faster,” Coldsteel says. “Look at me, do I need some bullshit fairing to run?” He dances a little jig, and ducks out of the gym.

“Goddammit!” Vector shouts, “It’s no use!”

“Vector, we need to get better,” Charmy says. He flutters to the ground. “Even if we were strong enough to face Shadow and his forces, would you feel victorious knowing Coldsteel carried us?”

Vector rests his head in his hands.

“You’re right. We’ll go to Knuckles next morning and ask for a training assignment. He’s the toughest bastard I’ve ever met.”


	3. Chapter 3

Coldsteel leans over the grimy countertop of the dormitory bathroom into the cloudy mirror. His eyes are bloodshot, and his purple hair wilts under the weight of his piercings. Like many post war hedgehegs, Coldsteel never knew his parents. Growing up in a series of understaffed orphanages, he learned that friendship existed as nothing further than a social contract. Coldsteel expected to end his life bleeding in a smoking bomb crater, or with luck as cannon fodder for GUN.

Coldsteel wishes he could remember the day when Sonic recognized his talent and brought him to the Sonic fighting academy, but his childhood is gone, a collection of scattered memories. He lives day to day, aggression and strength masking a lack of purpose.

The PA switches on.

“ _Coldsteel. To my study please._ ”

The unmistakable rasp of Sonic the Hedgehog.

 

The security to Sonic’s quarters is completely mechanized. Passing through an unremarkable interior door, Coldsteel finds himself in an antechamber, a tremendous vault door barring entrance. An unseen camera authenticates his identity, and the door grinds open.

Sonic’s study is in sharp juxtaposition to the rest of the complex. His study is warm, wooden floors and shelves upon shelves of memorabilia.

“Coldsteel, make yourself comfortable,” Sonic says, turning to face him. He sits in an electric wheelchair, a tracheotomy tube augmenting each breath with a faint gasp.

Coldsteel hesitates, put off by Sonic’s appearance.

“That armchair over there. Sit in it.”

Sonic turns his back once again to Coldsteel, and surveys his shelves.

“Surprised? I suppose my cadets haven’t seen me for quite some years. Funny how quickly a crushed leg turns septic, which turns to blood poisoning, a lowered immune response, et cetera.”

Sonic retrieves a clump of wire from his shelves and turns it over in his hands.

“This used to be a power ring receiver. I think I’ll ask Tails to get it working again. You would get good use out of legacy equipment like this.”

“Sir,” Coldsteel says, “Why am I here? What did that chameleon say?”

“Hmm? Espio says he tripped while running. An embarrassing fluke. Should I believe something else?”

“N-no, sir,” Coldsteel says.

“You are here tonight because ten years ago, I saw something in you, and I believed that you could rise above your circumstances. You have far exceeded my expectations.”

“Thank you,” Coldsteel says uneasily. He eyes the busted receiver in Sonic’s hand. Knuckles would often reminisce about the dominance of power ring users on the battlefield.

“Now it is time to reap the harvest. I am sending you on a real mission, to further our cause. It should be well within the capabilities of a hedgehog like yourself.”

Coldsteel’s heart races. Finally he can demonstrate his full power.

“Our drone network has triangulated an energy emission similar to that of a Chaos emerald. We have reason to suspect that it is a shard of the seventh emerald. You are to investigate, and if possible, retrieve the shard.” Sonic, despite speaking haltingly and quietly, commands a presence like no one else.

“You will embark at dawn. Godspeed.”

 ***

By the time the cadets approach Knuckles in the mess hall, he is well into his third bowl of cheesy grits.

“Eh? What is it? Don’t interrupt me, I’m fueling,” Knuckles says to the small crowd before him. The years have granted Knuckles a band of fat where impeccable abs once were, but his veiny arms and thick neck betray his incredible strength.

Vector steps forward.

“Coldsteel the hedgehog is making us look like crap. We want to get better.”

Knuckles cracks a sideways grin.

“About time. Meet me outside north wing an hour after the day’s exercises are over. I have just what you need.”

 ***

Coldsteel shivers in the cold morning air. He is heavily laden with dry provisions for a week and two bladders of water at his hips. Under the starlit sky, the world feels very big. The hint of a sunrise casts its rays across the east.

“How’s it looking up there?” Tails voice crackles through the radio.

“Looks fine,” Coldsteel says into his shoulder mic. In all honesty the device he is positioned in looks terrifying.

“You’re in a catapult, same thing we launch jump jets from on carriers,” Tails says, “On my count of three you’ll be launched forward, experiencing g-forces stronger than anything you’ve felt before. Stay on your feet no matter what.”

Coldsteel leans into the thinly padded backrest and braces himself.

“Three,” Tails says.

In under a second, Coldsteel is running at maximum velocity. As he is flung from the catapult, blackness eats away at the edge of his vision, but he stays upright, relying on reflex rather than conscious thought. His destination: Westopolis, where Shadow the hedgehog first rebelled against humanity.


End file.
